


Anyone Lived In A Pretty Town

by presentpathos



Category: Disney RPF
Genre: AU like wow, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 05:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/presentpathos/pseuds/presentpathos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a ridiculous Taylor/Demi High School AU of goofy teen love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anyone Lived In A Pretty Town

**Author's Note:**

  * For [summerstorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm/gifts).



> Beta'd by Tuesday, a not so lovely day, but a lovely beta!  
> This story wants to be so much longer, so um, keep your eyes peeled.

It wasn't like they were friends. Taylor barely even knew her. She was Selena's friend from her side of town. Taylor was a cheerleader, a North-sider.  Demi Lovato, East-sider, shop student, grease-monkey shouldn't have even been on her radar. And yet here she was, waiting after school again for Demi to get out of detention again so she could drive them up to the point in Taylor's daddy's car to do things in the back seat that didn't get talked about at the dinner table or even in the locker room.

It started at the beginning of the year. Taylor and Selena had become friends on the JV cheerleading team, in fact, they were each other's only friends. The other girls, lily-white and wealthy, certainly didn't want to be friends with a poor, Mexican girl. Taylor didn't see the world that way and so she had reached out to Selena and was ostracized for it. They became fast friends, inseparable at lunch, often spending dateless Friday nights and weekends at the park together.

Selena loved to make fun of Taylor's naivete about just about everything in the world. It's wasn't like she could help it, though;  her parents were rich, had come from money, and were deeply religious. They did everything the they could to ensure that the money they had protected their daughter from the harshness of the world.

So at the beginning of the year Selena had invited Taylor to spend a Friday night at her house, which her parents had readily agreed to. They loved Selena for some reason. Instead of a quiet night in with The Partridge Family albums and nail polish like she had expected, Taylor found herself at what she had been told was a "bush party" crowded full of people she didn't know, people her parents definitely wouldn't approve of.

The night had gone smoothly at first. Selena had stayed close, watching as Taylor tried her first beer, enjoyed it, and had another. Soon though, she had lost track of her escort, had another beer, and found herself lost, feeling a little dizzy and maybe just a tiny little bit scared.

The first time she had heard Demi's voice a very large boy had been talking to her in Spanish, backing her against a tree and taking liberties with his hands and her butt that really she thought she ought to object to.

"Hey, back off, tough guy." The giant had growled and turned; Taylor had braced for a fight when suddenly she could feel all the air go out of him.

"Oh, hey, Demi. Sorry, she's just so pretty, you know?"

"Whatever, dude, she's a friend of Selena, and you know what that means."

"Dude, Demi. Sorry." The giant had disappeared back into the woods and left Taylor looking confused at a tiny pixie of a girl with hair cropped short, tight jeans and a white tee shirt that was marked with grease and something else.

"Hi!" Taylor was pretty sure that third beer had pushed her from happy to drunk. "Thanks, I wasn't sure what I was going to do. My name's Taylor!"

Demi hadn't smiled, hadn't taken Taylor's offered hand; she'd only reached into her back pocket and pulled out a bandanna which she used to wipe her brow.

“Taylor, I know who you are. We've been going to the same high school for three years. You're friends with my best friend. We even had grade nine English together."

"Oh right you're that girl, Demi, Selena talks abou' you allllll the time." Taylor's words started to slur together and she stumbled forward over a tree root. Demi catches her in arms stronger than they look.

Three weeks later she wasn't sure what happened next, but Demi assured her it was strictly honorable, and Selena said she didn't look ravished or anything when Demi carried her out of the woods, so Taylor has decided to believe her on that point.  Either way, she wakes woke up the next morning confused, sick, and completely incapable of getting Demi Lovato's arms off her mind.   

It takes her weeks to work up the courage to seek her out in school. Finally, in a fit of pique one afternoon, she rams the front of her car into a particularly solid looking telephone pole.  Her father is furious until she tells him the boys in auto shop will probably fix it for her for free because she is, after all, the most well liked, if friendless girl in school.   

She waits around the auto shop for an hour after school for all the boys to leave, until only Demi is there, elbow deep in some kind of giant car that looks like something her brother would drool over.   

"Hey, Demi, can you fix my car?"   

Taylor doesn't announce herself or anything, so Demi jumps when she sneaks up behind her and shouts over the Zeppelin on the radio.  Were she taller, she would probably hit her head on the hood rather than just knocking the tool box off the side. 

"Goddamn it, Swift, don't you know it's bad form to sneak up on someone?" 

Taylor blushes and giggles.  That's so eighth grade.  She silently admonishes herself.  "I hit a telephone pole the other day.  Daddy's real mad, he's going to take it out of my allowance.  I thought maybe you'd do it for cheaper than a regular mechanic."  She puts on her best winsome smile and bats her lashes.  

Demi wipes the grease off her hands with the same red bandanna from the party, and no wonder it made such a mess of her face, Taylor realizes, using the same dirty rag on your face and your hands.  Only a boy would think that acceptable.   

"Where is it?"  

"Just outside.  It's the red one."   

When she sees Taylor's car, Demi's jaw drops.  "Taylor!  That's a 1964 Mustang!  That car's a classic!"  She runs toward the car.  "What did you do to it?"  When she reaches for the dent Taylor is genuinely concerned Demi is about to burst into tears.   

She shrugs.  "I accidentally hit a pole."  It's not like she's the first person to hit a pole.  Besides, she tells herself, a car's just a car, no matter what Demi or her Daddy says. 

"Were you drunk?"  Now it's Demi's turn to look concerned. 

"No, not at all."  Taylor smiles and puts her arm on Demi's bicep.  Squeezes it, remembering what it felt like to be caught in them.  "I just couldn't think of any other reason to talk to you." 


End file.
